


The Chosen One

by kurtcouper



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtcouper/pseuds/kurtcouper
Summary: "Not my Spike… William?" she breathed. A tremor ran through her. "How?"The rain didn't stop and he didn't know what he was doing. Food was meant to eat, not play with. But kitten here was all warm in his arms and shaking. She was beautiful and dripping wet with big blue eyes.She could be his.With her body tight against his, her warm palm at his chest, he nuzzled her neck and she shivered. Lightening struck again and a glint of something shiny from his chest caught his eyes.He nearly dropped her.His mum’s ring on her finger.Bloody hell, she already was his.------Spike had loved Dawn for 100 years before he met her that night in School Hard.A collection of important vignettes throughout the years.(This is the Soulmate AU with a time travel and Monk twist that you never asked for.)
Relationships: Spike/Dawn Summers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	The Chosen One

March 15, 1903  
Bucharest, Romania

He heard whimpering. Quiet and tortured like a lost little kitten. The weather probably was making it frightened. Lightning was cracking everywhere and the rain had soaked him down to his skivvies. It hadn't stopped storming since his Dru left nearly two months ago and his mood rivaled the weather. She had gone to find Daddy. The stars were whispering her to do so, she had told him. They had even whispered of a prezzie for Spike wrapped up in a big, green bow but only if he was a good boy and stayed behind. Bugger that. He had been a drunk, weeping mess ever since. Another soft mewling cut threw his fun little jaunt through memory lame. It seemed to come from the bushes to his right.

Maybe a full stomach would brighten his night.

He sloshed through the mud and pushed away the wet branches, ignoring the thorns cutting into his skin. There was a soggy bundle of a little human, soused and shivering and wearing some strange garb. She cried out as if she was in pain but he didn’t smell blood. He did smell… his claim?

"Spike," she moaned, her shaky arms reaching out for him. "Hurts."

He growled and grabbed her in his arms, noticing the perfect and warm way she felt pressed up against him. What in the bloody hell? Frantically he pushed back her wet hair from her forehead and neck and rubbed his nose in the nape of her neck. She had his bite. It was fresh, only a few hours old, and had only just reopened in his discovery. He licked the small trace of blood that trickled out of the bite and growled at the taste. She was like ambrosia, rich and bold with hints of cherries and magic and… him.

He didn't understand.

"Spike?" she asked, her voice small and questioning.

A bolt of lightning cracked around them and her eyes went wild when she caught his own. She gasped. With shaking hands, she cupped his face. A finger traced his eyebrow, another his hair.

"Not my Spike… William?" she breathed. A tremor ran through her. "How?"

The rain didn't stop and he didn't know what he was doing. Food was meant to eat, not play with. But kitten here was all warm in his arms and shaking. She was beautiful and dripping wet with big blue eyes.

She could be his.

With her body tight against his, her warm palm at his chest, he nuzzled her neck and she shivered. Lightening struck again and a glint of something shiny from his chest caught his eyes.

He nearly dropped her.

His mum’s ring on her finger.

Bloody hell, she already was his.

\----------------------------

March 29, 1903  
Bucharest, Romania

Her name was Dawn. Seemed fitting, he supposed, since she made him burn like her namesake. There was something about her that made his demon purr and the man wax poetic. Both wanted her and it felt so right, yet strange being this whole. He couldn’t explain it but there was some sort of pull like she was the north star and he needed her to find his way home.

"William!" she chastised, slapping his hand. "I said, go fish! Pick up a card."

Grumbling, he did as the bird said. A blasted two of hearts. Bollocks! She had just taken his other two. His head wasn't in the game; she had already cleaned him out playing poker. She had laughed and said he was the one who taught her so she knew all his ticks and tricks. So she taught him a new game. Something from the…future.

The future. Not that anything truly surprised him anymore, but he almost couldn't wrap his head around it all.

The first night he had brought her back, he tied her up, and she told all her pretty little secrets. They spent days discussing who she was and who he was to her. She left out pieces, afraid of the consequences, and not all things added up. Why was Dry not in his future; how did he come to spend so much time with the sister of a slayer; and what was a telly? But he couldn’t deny the facts. She knew him. Knew more about him than anyone else ever had. She had his bite, his claim. Even more so, she had his mum’s ring, intended for his intended. The one that was still in the stash pocket of his boots. The one he hadn’t even ever thought to give to his dark princess.

She didn’t know why she was here. Why now? A warning? A curse?

Redemption?

Most of all, the biggest bloody mystery from him was that if all this was true, why could he smell her purity? She had blushed when he asked if they were lovers and he wondered if she knew that her Spike loved her. If she even knew how important the ring on her finger and the bite on her neck were.

If she knew she was his.

His mate.

His perfect, kind, compassionate, loving, strong, beautiful human mate.

Completely, utterly, solely his.

His demon growled. He liked that too.

"I win. Again!" the brunette exclaimed and threw down her last pair. "I do believe that means that I am still the reigning champ, no matter the century!"

He growled and gave her his wolfish grin. “Remember what that means, kitten? What the winner gets?”

“What?” she breathed, her heartbeat accelerating, her lips parted and her eyes big and wide. She smelled delicious all nervous and wanting.

“I’m all yours.”

\----------------------------

November 10, 1903  
Bucharest, Romania

He had woken up and she was gone. Every dawn when he closed his eyes for sleep, there was a small bloom of terror in his chest that she wouldn't be there when he awoke. Neither knew why she was there; they were living on borrowed time and he thought that morning it had expired. He had broken everything he could get his hands on, enjoying the sounds of things smashing. He had gone to their makeshift wardrobe, wanting to rip it apart with his bare hands. He then noticed her town-clothes missing- a pair of trousers and a waistcoat they used to conceal her womanly figure. His rage didn't dampen. She wasn't gone forever, she was just gone.

The sun hadn't even set yet when he heard her scream. It took him mere seconds for him to find her, the stinging of the sun's rays on his neck. She was limping and running towards him, three demons as wide as they were tall chasing after her. It had been pure bloodshed then. His demon ripped them apart, stringing their entrails arse over tit. Marlock demons were known for regeneration and he wasn't taking any chances.

"So bloody stupid," he muttered and wiped his bloody hands on the grass.

"I'm not stupid, I was-" she started to speak but his growl interrupted her. She kept her mouth closed.

He didn't want to hear her speak. He couldn't even look at her; he was so furious. What would have happened if he wasn't there? What would have happened if she died? He wanted to go kill things. Had already ripped the entrails out of three Marlock demons, but his own demon was begging for more bloodshed.

He lit a small lantern once he crossed the threshold, ignored her gasp at the damage he had done, and grabbed a jug of whisky that was less than half full. After slugging back enough to make his headache turn into a mere throb, he took her bloody knuckles in his hands. He tried not to enjoy the wince she gave when he poured the whisky over her torn up fingers.

"I didn't realize how close it was to sunset," she said quietly. "I woke up so hungry. We had no food. So I went to the Inn-"

"Well I woke up and you were gone," he replied, his voice low and barely in control. He wiped her fingers dry and drowned the rest of the bottle. "Thought you returned to-" He couldn't even say it. Didn't want to think it. Didn't want to think about what that meant. "And then I find you frolicking with Marlock demons."

"It's not like I did it on purpose!"

"You almost got yourself killed!" he exploded and threw the whisky bottle against the wall. This time the smash did nothing to cheer him. "What would have happened if I wasn't there?"

He could feel the heat of her body, could feel her heartbeat ringing throughout him. She was pressed up tight against him, breathing heavy and fast.

"William-" she murmured, so sad and soft.

His name sounded like a prayer on her lips and at that very moment he wanted to be saved. All he could do was breathe her in. The only thing he could see was her. He had waited his entire undead for her. He was nothing without her. Didn't she understand? Didn't she see?

"What would I have done if you had died?"

He didn't even give her time to answer before he devoured her.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips, against her neck, against her cheek, trying to sink himself into every inch of skin, every bit of her.

Her hands came up to his face, stilling him from his actions. She looked deep into his eyes. All he could see was love, all he could feel was her. “I love you.”

He kissed her again. And again. “I love you so bloody much.”

That night he dreamt of Dawn dressed in a green ball gown, a large, green bow in her hair. She twirled and twirled and twirled until the bow in her hair unraveled.

And then she disappeared.

\----------------------------

September, 1997  
Sunnydale, California

This bloody massacre was supposed to be his bit of fun for the night but now it was quickly turning sour. The Slayer having bloody groupies was not part of the plan. Made her more annoying. All that bouncy hair and pep. He couldn't wait to eat her. On second thought, probably be best to wring her neck. The tart would probably get stuck in his fangs.

"Slaayyyer! Here, kitty, kitttyyyy. I find one of your friends first, I'm gonna suck 'em dry." He kicked in a classroom door. Empty. "And use their bones to bash your head in."

He trailed the halls slowly and enjoyed the smell of terror radiating off the walls. One of the best things about being a vampire. Made him feel all tingly. There had been noises in the air ducts above his head, but they had stopped minutes ago. He could feel that she was close; there was that subtle buzz he felt in his fingertips when she was around. He stopped in his tracks once he caught a whiff of something…special coming from the janitor's closet. Familiar, but new. Opening up the door, he was greeted with a bitty little thing, eyes wide and scared.

"Lookie what we have here," he grinned. He wasn't into babes. Children were more Angelus' scene, but he could use this one to his advantage. A few sad cries should bring the Slayer out from hiding. "A little tasty morsel all-"

She didn't let him finish before she rushed towards him and used all her might to kick him in the shin.

"Oi now," Spike yelled, grabbing a fist of her dark hair. She packed a punch, that one. Spunky little blood bag. "You scuff the boots and then I'll really have to bite you."

"Like you could. My sister is so going to kick your ass before you get a chance," the brunette sneered, her face scrunched and nose wrinkled.

"Language, brat," he reprimanded and pulled on her hair tighter until she made a little cry. The noise was delicious. This little morsel was such a sweet 'bit. All eyes and sass. Going to grow up to break some hearts. That is, if he let her live. “Big sis know you have such a potty mouth?"

The chit actually rolled her eyes. "She's the slayer and it's her job to- "

He froze. Slayer's didn't have sisters. Didn't have family. Had to be the lonely one and whine about it. This slayer shouldn't have a sister. Unless…

He crouched down beside her and took her face in his hands. He came face to face with her big, blue eyes and something fierce caught in his chest. Spike felt like the world had turned to fire and was burning him alive. He couldn't bloody believe it. Almost didn't, but it had to be her. His precious little petal all bitty sized and miniature. It had been so long that he thought that maybe he had dreamt her all up. Time had taken away some of her likeness in his mind, but never those eyes. He rubbed a thumb up and down the side of her neck, trying to wrap his mind around it all. She was soft like a kitten and mewling like one too -just like when he found her last, shivering in the graveyard a century ago.

It was different then. She was different then: older, taller, his. A growl rumbled in his throat. No. She would always be his. She was his because here she had come back to him. They had found each other again.

"Dawn," he breathed, pushing back some of her hair behind her ears. He hadn't spoken that name in decades but it didn't stop his dreams. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead over her heart. There it was. The most beautiful sound he could have ever imagined-her lifeline, strong and constant and real in his ear.

"You-you know my name?" his kitten squeaked, her eyes bulging, her little bottom lip trembling. Fear rolled off of her in waves.

He chuckled, nuzzled into her neck and inhaled her essence. So young and innocent. Not exactly as he remembered, but she wasn't finishing becoming the woman he fell for. Her blood was pumping so hard and close to the surface that he could almost taste it on his tongue. It had been so long and he had never been good at being patient. But he had waited a century for her. He could wait a bit more.

"Too dangerous out here for little kittens as tasty as you," he admonished and pushed her back into the closet from where she ran. He took a mop and broke it over his knee, handing her two sharp makeshift stakes. She took them, confused. "Don't leave this closet for anyone but Big Sis, got it?"

He popped a kiss on the crown of her head and shut the door. 

He felt his grin reach his eyes. 

His kitten was bitty and bite-sized and she was here. 

\----------------------------

November 24, 1998  
Sunnydale, California

"Well, Spike, sometimes, even when two people seem right for each other, their lives just take different paths. when Buffy's father and I started having trouble-"

"But this is different! Our love was supposed to be eternal! Literally!" he howled and then sighed. "You got any of those little marshmallows?"

"Of course," she smiled and patted his hand.

"And bourbon too?" he winked.

She had always had a heavy hand with the bourbon and he could feel himself sobering up and that just wouldn't do. Ever since Drusilla ripped his heart open, he'd been on a constant diet of liquor to quell the pain. Dru had said he had gotten too soft. That he was no longer the vamp that Daddy taught him to be. She said his thoughts were too full of his kitten. That she couldn't stand to be second fiddle which wasn't that a bunch of laughs. He had been Angelus' stand-in for as long as he could remember, but he had still loved Dru. And what did that get him? A bloody broken heart.

A small crash made itself known, somewhere in the foyer, and for the first time in a long time, he could feel himself smile. Dru was right when she said his thoughts were consumed with his itty bitty human. It was as if seeing her sparked all the emotions he had kept tucked and hidden away for a century and now he was drowning in her. It's why he was back in Sunnyhell in the first place. Well, that and to curse his Sire's bollocks off for turning his dark princess against him. A perfect visit, one for books at least. He just needed one little peak to make sure his nibblet was real, was safe. A little reminder that someone had loved him.

"Dawn?" Joyce called out, her hands on her hips and a worried note in her voice.

"No worries, mom. I just-" Dawn stopped when she saw his presence in the kitchen.

Something in his chest opened up when he saw her. Like she was answering a call he didn't know he made.

"One daughter a slayer and the other a complete stumblebum," Spike chuckled and popped a marshmallow in his mouth.

"Spike," she said, a giant, daft smile on her face. “You came back!”

“Your mum makes the best hot chocolate this side of the Atlantic. Can’t miss such a treat as this. Come join us, nibblit, for a cuppa. If it’s alright with your mum, that is.”

Joyce smiled and brought three steaming mugs to the table. He sniffed each one before he handed Dawn hers and they all clinked their glasses together.

This was exactly what he needed, he decided as Dawn and Joyce chattered about. It was so easy to thaw in her voice and forget the world. He sipped his cocoa and listened to the latest white hat gossip-which big bads they had conquered, the latest apocalypse they managed to avoid.

“And then the vampire told Buffy-Hey! Mom, look.” There was a tugging on his wrist and he realized that he had fallen into a drunken lull. “Look, Spike and I have the same bracelet!”

He blinked. His was a bit tarnished and could use a good polishing, but there on her petite wrist was the same exact bracelet he sported. A silver ID bracelet that she gave him so very long ago so he would always have a piece of her with him.

“Lookie there, kitten. We sure do.” He paused and ran a finger over his own bracelet. “Someone who very much still has my heart gave me this as a prezzie. A forget-me-not,” he said softly.

He remembered the day when she hooked the bracelet around his wrist. They had been in bed and they both had tears in their eyes that couldn’t seem to be shagged away. He had almost lost her that night, a demon attack where he almost got to her too late. He shook his head, trying to will the memories away. He didn’t need to get caught up in this now. Not with this much drink in him and her, a child, still all hair and eyes, across from him.

“Mom gave it to me for my birthday a few months ago,” she gushed and pushed her wrist up to his. “Do you know what that means?” Her eyes looked into his and he wanted nothing more than to drown in her. Why could she not be his already? Why did she have to leave him? Why was she across from him and a child? He felt his eyes well up with bloody tears and he looked away before they could fall. “We’re bracelet twins! Isn’t that cool, Mom?”

“That’s a very special bond you two share,” Joyce softly said and put her hand on Dawn’s arm. “Why don’t you tell Spike goodnight and get ready for bed.”

“But, Mom-“

“No but’s, missy. It’s past eleven and it’s a school night.”

Dawn pouted and fell into his chest. He was unprepared for her assault, but recovered quickly by tightening his arms around her, ignoring the way his dead heart squeezed inside him.

“Night, Spike,” she whispered.

He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Sweetest dreams, platelet.”

“I’ll be up in a few to tuck you in, sweetie.”

Dawn gave a quick kiss to her mum’s cheek before she popped up the stairs. Spike stared into his empty mug while he forced his emotions under control. He could hear her heartbeat getting fainter with every step, but it still rang through his empty body like a painful throb.

A hand on his wrist startled him for the second time tonight. He couldn’t seem to muster up the strength to look at Joyce as she removed his bracelet and ran her fingers over the words engraved on the underside.

_My Pumpkin Belly. Love you forever._

He heard her sigh. “Should I even try to understand?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t even understand it myself, love.” He was quiet for a beat.

The sound of whisky being poured into his mug broke through his thoughts and he looked up at Joyce, startled. She poured herself two fingers as well and they raised their glasses mournfully before knocking them back.

“I’ve realize that there is so much in this world I don’t understand…. Watchers and vampires and demons…” She paused. “You’re a good man, Spike.” Her hand clasped over his and the warmth ran straight to his unbeating heart. “As a reminder, she’s my baby and I’m handy with an axe.”

She poured herself another two fingers of whisky and shot it before she could take a second thought.

“And she’s not dating until she’s 18.”

The room went a bit wobbly and he had to squint at Joyce to make sure he understood.

Bloody hell. Was she meaning what he thought?

“I’m going to go say goodnight to Dawn.”

“Leave the bottle, will you love?” he asked and easily poured himself another.

She gave him a sad smile as she left the kitchen.

“An angel you are, truly. I don’t deserve any of the Summers’ women.”

Especially not Dawn, he thought, as he heard her heartbeat upstairs.

\----------------------------

November 23, 1999  
Sunnydale, California

"A bear? You made a bear. Undo it. Undo it!" he stammered and hopped the chair further away from the giant animal.

"Buffy!" Dawn screamed as the bear's claws made its way closer to her.

"Get behind me, 'bit. Now!"

Dawn scrambled to her knees and crawled her way behind his chair. She would be better protected here, the couch behind her and his solid form in front. The bloody chip was a pain in his arse but at least it led him to her, allowed him to protect her. The bear and any stray arrows would have to go through him to get to her. He could hear her heart rattle in her chest and smell her panic pouring off of her in waves.

"Don't worry, kitten. Big Sis and the white hats have it under control."

At that very moment, the Whelp was thrown into a cabinet by the bear. She made a tiny sound in reaction and her hand found its way to his underneath the ropes. It felt so tiny and shaky in his and he gave it a gentle squeeze for some reassurance.

The Slayer had almost killed the mythical bear when he heard Dawn cry out behind him. He barely had time to register the arrow coming towards his heart before he felt his kitten's push and then the hard smack of him colliding with the floor.

"Oh god, oh god, are you okay?" Dawn frantically asked, coming out from behind him. Her hands came to his chest and patted the area where his heart should beat. Where she just bloody saved him.

"What happened. Did we win?"

\----------------------------

February 10, 2001  
Sunnydale, California

She was climbing out her window again, but this time she was having more of a time with it with the chip she took out of her arm and all. He had barely been able to see straight when he found out she had taken the knife to her own flesh, playing with things she shouldn't be playing with. It's why he had taken residence under her window, waiting and watching.

He knew she wasn't done yet.

"Going somewhere, platelet?"

His voice must have surprised her because she lost her footing on the last slat of the lattice and she tumbled to the ground. She quickly got up and wiped the dirt from her clothes. His eyes narrowed. What little clothes she had on, that was.

"Over to Janice's for a sleepover," she chirped.

"'That so?" he smirked, flicked his fag to the ground, and enjoyed stomping out the embers. "Where's the jimmy jams then?"

She grabbed her book bag from behind some bushes on the ground that she must have planted earlier and held it up for inspection. He could faintly hear the clinking of bottles inside it. He easily snatched the bag from her and unzipped it. An unopened bottle of sickly sweet girly wine and a half of bottle of Maker's Mark. Joyce was cheaping out on him.

"Right. Now why don't you tell me where you're really going or I wake up your mum in there and tell her she has a jail brake on her hands."

Throwing him a look, she huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I am going over to Janice's."

"And what, you were going to make moltov cocktails? Fancy another breaking and entering?" He grabbed her unhurt arm at the wrist and tugged until she was in front of him. "Tell me or I tell your mum about your sticky fingers, too."

"Janice's parents are out of town and she invited boys over," she blushed and he threw her bag down.

"Boys? Buggering hell. You're going to get your narrow arse back to bed right now!"

"But Spike!" she cried and slumped down in on herself, her cute bottom lip sticking out and quivering. "I have to go to this party."

"There'll always be more parties, 'bit. Trust me."

"But not ones where Ryan Miller will be there. We’re supposed to play spin the bottle and Janice said she can make it stop on him and…”

“And bloody hell it gets worse. No.. All good little nibblits shouldn't snog until their wedding day."

She didn't look at him, but he could smell her embarrassment and the tears that were threatening to spill. He joined her on the stairs, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. Spike hated to see his kitten upset. Never could deny the women in his life, even the ones who didn't care much for him. And he'd go through hell or high water for this one in front of him.

"What if I go through my whole entire life without ever being kissed? I'd have to join a circus and be in their freak sideshow and people would come and throw tubes of chapstick at -"

"Petal," he coaxed, interrupting her.

She turned towards him, her lip still a bit jutted, and a blush high on her cheeks. He trailed his hand to her chin and gently titled her face up. He gave her a basic peck, nothing more than his lips pressed up against hers. He could feel her heartbeat race and her body tense slightly before she relaxed into his hold.

Her eyes were dazed and round and her heart hadn't stopped pumping violently. She was cute like that, all blush and wordless.

"Now that we've taken care of your future with the circus or any tarty parties, how about you go upstairs and change into something right proper-like jimjams or a nun habit-and then we'll go drink some hot chocolate with your mum, yeah?"

\----------------------------

May 1, 2001  
Sunnydale, California

"This stupid Key must be something horrible to cause so much….evil."

She was slumped on the ground, her head in her hands and tears running down her cheek.

He hated to see her cry. Even worse, he hated to see her defeated. He knew it didn't help for her to see him like this, all bloodied and bruised from his little scrape with Glory. He knew his injuries looked like a promise to her, a promise of what was to come. But he'd go through a thousand torture sessions with the hell god before he let her touch one hair on Dawn's head.

"Rot," he said, taking a seat beside her.

She wiped her face with the sleeves of her shirt. "What do you know?"

"I'm a vampire, platelet. I know something about evil. You're not evil."

Turning her head to look at him, she stared at him for a beat before she spoke. "You would, wouldn't you? You'd be able to tell." The look in her eye made him wary. "Do it then."

He cocked his head, confused at her words and tone, until she pulled her collar away from her neck, exposing a pale expanse of skin. He could see the blood beating furiously under the skin and he licked his lips before he looked away.

"Put that away," he choked, grabbing her hands and taking them away from her neck.

"Spike," she pleaded, "This is important. I need to know."

"Couldn't even if I wanted to, 'bit. The chip." She turned her big, round eyes on him. "Not that I want to. So drop it!"

"My blood would heal you faster than that pig's blood you hate. And you need to be at tip top vamp shape to protect me, you know."

"Dawn-" he warned.

"I bet if I wanted it, that would override the chip."

"End of discussion."

She huffed, dejected, and pouted. He would normally be thankful for such a reprieve, but he felt suffocated from the darkness of the cave and by her request. The mere thought of her own blood was enough to make him dizzy with need and thoroughly sick with self-loathing.

"You're not the only vampire in the whole world you know," she grumbled. "I bet I could go to the Bronze and find someone that could help me."

"You will not," he growled.

"Or Willie's. He seems like he's willing to help a girl out, nicely point me towards some fangs."

"I'd skin you alive if you step foot in his bar and you know that," he responded sharply as he held her gaze. "Now come off it. You couldn't be evil even if you tried. You are the sweetest thing I have ever known."

"Then prove it."

Buggering hell.

Her face was hard, her voice fragile, and he could see the fear behind her eyes. Could smell it softly on her skin. He could see that she was trying to be strong, to hold it together, but all her threads were unraveling too quickly. It was unfair the hand she was dealt and all so soon and so young. He pulled her into his lap. She held herself ridged to him, still brassed off, so he held her tighter and ran his fingers through her hair. It wasn't too long until she surrendered and melted into him.

"Tell me why it's so important to you."

She busied her attention anywhere but him. "If I'm evil, then…. Well, if it came down to it, it'd be easier for Buffy to kill me. To you know, save the world," she said, the words muffled by his own body.

"What?" he roared, grabbing her face in his hands, not believing the words out of her mouth.

"If Glory can use me to open up hell, Buffy can use me to close it, too. That's how keys work," she said, her voice soft but determined. She had thought of this before then. Bloody hell. “And I know that if it did come down to it, me or hell on earth, that Buffy would pick me. But maybe, if I am evil, then she could do it."

He stared at her. A ball of fear, an arctic panic, rose up in his chest and for fifteen whole seconds he imagined what would happen if something happened to her. If he lost her. A boiling rage quickly engulfed him at the thought.

"Are you completely daft?" he shouted.

"What? No. I just-If one person could die instead of 7 billion, then isn't it worth it?"

His fingers were digging into her arms and he knew he was hurting her, could feel the slight twinge behind his eyelids, but he used it like gasoline to stoke his fire.

"We're going to make ourselves a little deal, so listen to me very carefully, kitten," he growled. The tone in his voice snapped her spine straight. Good. "I'm going to prove to you that you're not evil and that it's not your place to die to redeem yourself or save the greater good-sod the greater good- and then you're going to promise to get these bloody stupid self-sacrificing thoughts out of your head. I don't want to hear about it ever again and if there ever comes a time where it's you or the world, you bloody always pick you, alright? I will not lose you to some daft martyrdom."

"But Spike-"

"No buts," he grounded out through gritted teeth. "I'm serious, Dawn. I can't protect you if I can't trust you. I need to know that you'll save yourself first."

She was silent for a few beats and then nodded her head. "I-I promise," she said and took a deep breath. With her lip between her teeth, she offered him her neck.

"Not even sure it's gonna work, kitten, but I'm not gonna hurt you. Got it?"

"I trust you."

He rolled his eyes and morphed into his true face. For that remark alone he should make it hurt just to serve her right.

"On three. Count for me, petal," he whispered against her skin, the cold ridges of his forehead sending goosebumps down her skin.

"One," she counted lightly and he gently kissed her pulse point. Her heart fluttered. "Two-"

He sunk his teeth into her tender flesh before she ever got to three. Her precious blood filled his mouth and stars exploded behind his eyes. Hadn't had human blood in months, hadn't had hers in over a century. She tasted just like he remembered, but not yet full bodied. Not yet grown. Definitely not evil. She panted against his chest, his shirt clenched in her hands. He was definitely evil, though. A right monster at how much he was enjoying her little throaty noises and the way she was pressed up against him. This was a bloody bad idea. He took one last pull of her sweet, hot blood before he extracted his fangs from her neck. He closed his eyes, willing his demon to quiet down as he sent one last kiss to her broken skin.

She was dazed in his arms, a blush stained high on her cheeks and her lips red and swollen from where she was biting them. He watched her take two deep breaths and he found himself doing the same. He tried to do right by her, be his best for her because he loved her. But he was still a vampire and his demon craved her in ways that he couldn't have yet. In ways he didn't think he should ever. 

“And?” she asked, breathless.

"You taste like spring. Like a bright beautiful thing, sharp like sunshine and warm too with a hint of cherries. Not the cocktail ones, but the plump, sweet dark ones with the seeds."

"Not evil?" Her voice was so tiny.

"Not even one ounce."

"What are we going to do?" she wailed before her face crumpled into tears. She buried her head further into his chest as sobs racked her body and dampened his shirt. "I don't even like cherries."

He kissed the top of her head. "I do, nibblit. I do."

\----------------------------

July 15, 2001  
Sunnydale, California

Her hair was wet, soaking the pillow, and she smelled of soap and tears. These days she only let herself cry in the shower and he began to associate that clean smell with a heavy heart. It must have been a bad day then. There had been too many bad days since Buffy jumped and threw their world into a spiral of grief and pain. The covers were up to her chin and she looked so very small all tucked into the corner of her bed, but that left a perfect little hollow for him. He laid himself gently on top of the covers-always on top of the covers-and she immediately rearranged her body around his.

"Didn't mean to wake you, 'bit," he whispered into her hair.

"Wasn't sleeping," she yawned. "Was waiting up for you."

She was faced away from him and although her voice was muffled, he could hear the weariness. His poor kitten. She had lost so much. Her mum. Her sister. Her humanness. And here he was, enjoying the way his hollow chest felt full when he was with her, being close to her in the only way he could.

He hated himself.

"Will you stay? Until I sleep?"

He pulled her body closer to his and wrapped his arms around her blanket covered form.

"Everything's just….better when you're near."

"I know the feeling, petal.”

He bloody wished he didn’t, but he did.

\----------------------------

December 2, 2001  
Sunnydale, California

He could only see red as he yanked her arm and threw her against a mausoleum, enjoying the burst of pain behind his eyes. His demon had taken control when he had seen his sweet bit in the graveyard under that boy with his hand beneath her shirt and his fangs over her pulse point. She was _his._ Didn't she know that? Bloody his for a century and no sodding underage fledgling vampire was going to take her away from him.

"What the bloody fuck were you thinking?"

She sneered, lips swollen and a purple bruise blossoming on her collarbone. A hickey. He narrowed his eyes. "Oh now you keep your lips shut? Too bloody late for that, innit? You were nearly a happy meal to a newborn!"

"Why do you even care?"

The words hit him so hard that he staggered backwards. "How can you even ask me that?" he screamed. "You are-" He paused, words on his lips that she couldn’t know. She rolled her eyes and went to leave, but he caught her wrist before she got too far. "Oi! Don't walk away from me!"

She pulled her hand from him as if he was fire. "Why? You walked away from me first," and her voice was just as cold as the gusts of wind that kept swirling between them. She pulled the boy's jacket tighter around her and walked into the night.

Away from him.

\--

“Buggered it all up, Joyce,” he said, taking a giant swig of whisky. He coughed at the taste. It was the cheapest bottle he could find. Wanted to make it hurt, to feel the burn. “No surprise, though love. Always do.” Another pull of whisky made his eyes water.

He plopped down to the ground, ignoring the dew seeping into his jeans, and placed the flowers he knicked from the five and dime in front of her gravestone. Daises. He thought it was appropriate. She would have shook her head in exasperation and fondness, like she had so many times before when he showed up at her doorstep. Joyce always did have too high an opinion of him.

“Wasn’t enough for Dru. Or Angelus. Or Cecily. Or Dawn.” He paused and pressed his palm against her tombstone. It was so cold, even for him. “Especially Dawn.”

He fell silent with his bottle. No matter how much whisky he drank, he choked with every swallow. He couldn’t tell if it was now the whisky or his self-hatred. Either way, he was drowning in it all. How did they even get here? It had all been fine when she was a child, tiny and easy to protect and nothing but eyes. Easy to compartmentalize. But then he blinked and eyes grew into a face meant for an angel and she looked so much like _his_ ….And the Slayer was made out of the same blood and it was so bloody easy to close his eyes and pretend. Plus, the Slayer was made of the same midnight he was, dark and wrong. His kitten was too pure and bright and too bloody good for them all. Sodding hell. He never did have a plan. Just assumed... what? She'd turn 18 and she'd choose him? A soulless demon with nothing to show? How did he think his kitten would ever love him? Ever want to be with him? He wasn’t good enough, was never bloody good enough and now he had lost the best thing he’s ever had.

“This one’s for you, love,” he said as he poured his remaining sips of whisky on the ground. She would have turned her nose up at his cheap taste-the Summers’ women knew a thing about quality- but he hoped she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

It would be easier this way, he decided. Give him some space, remove himself from temptation, and become a man that could deserve being in her presence. 

“Won’t be popping by for awhile, but I’ll be back soon. Gotta see a man about a soul. For our girl.”

\----------------------------

July 20, 2002  
Istanbul, Turkey

"Just wanted to hear your voice, sweet bit. Heard about the human fillet all the way across the pond and wanted to check in and make sure you were alright."

"Don't hang up," the voice on the other end urged. He smiled against the pay phone receiver and leaned his head against the phone booth. He had nothing but time for her.

"Isn't that my line, bit?"

There was radio silence for a few human breaths and he mirrored her soft inhale and exhales. ”It's just-last time you, we didn't get to talk. Not really," Dawn said softly, her voice shy and quiet.

"Last time you told me to bugger off. Not that I can't say I didn't deserve it," he chuckled darkly.

"Things were… things were different then. I was still being angst girl.You left and I…” she trailed off. "But-but Tara's gone, Spike. She was shot and now she's….and I miss her so much. Like so much. And I miss you too, but you're not gone." By the end, her voice went wobbly and she took a deep breath. "I mean, you're gone, but not really. I mean, I hope not. I don't want you to be gone."

He heard her sigh and he closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold her in his arms.

"I don't want to talk about that. I just… I want to hear your voice too. Tell me about Istanbul."

He had only been there for a week but he told her his first impressions and waxed poetic about the places he'd been before then. He talked about watching the moon rise high above the Black Sea and the bright lights of Budapest at night. He described the street art he saw in Berlin and sampling all the meat pies at the Christmas market in Bucharest because it reminded him of his mum. (He skipped over the part when he visited the cemetery where they used to live and how he cried over the remaining pieces of their crypt.) She couldn’t control her laughter at how he had gotten blind drunk at the witch burning festival in Brno and danced naked with a coven of witches. The sound was music to his ears.

"So are you still vamp Bono or have you found what you're looking for?"

Spike stared out of the phone booth. It was past midnight in Istanbul and the streets were deserted and called to him in a haunting and hollow way. He wasn't looking for anything. That's not what this was about. He knew everything he wanted and she was back in Sunnydale. But he left because he had to fix things. He didn’t have anything to give but himself and that wasn’t worth much. Wasn’t worth anything. She deserved the best he could give. She deserved his soul. And he was a complete and utter waste because he couldn't even do that right. He had seen three contacts about regaining it, but every time the magic failed. The soul wouldn't accept his body, wouldn't accept him.

"I just-I miss you. Are you ever coming back? I'll listen to your stories about the sidewalks in Istanbul and even put up with you wearing a scarf and a nose ring like Janice did after her Eurotrip last year."

"A nose ring, kitten?" he snorted. “Give me more credit than that, would you? I've gotten carpe diem tattooed somewhere on my body and you get to guess the body part."

"Ooh. Inner wrist. Ankle. No, neck!"

He could hear the smile in her voice and he couldn't remember wanting something so strongly. He didn't deserve her, never deserved her, but he craved the lullaby of her heartbeat, her warmth that he could feel in his empty chest. She filled him up-made him feel whole, made him _feel_.

He was first and foremost a selfish prat, wanting things he could never have. What was one more?

He didn’t have to do anything. Unrequited love was his specialty.

He could love from afar. 

"Guess you'll have to wait and see."

\----------------------------

September 28, 2002  
Sunnydale, CA

The Slayer was out and nobody else was home. He could feel her heartbeat through the walls; music to his ears. He missed that constant lullaby that soothed him to sleep during the summer Buffy was dead. When it had been less complicated. Bloody amazing that resurrection could tear up more than grief could.

He had arrived in Sunnydale only an hour before he was perched outside her window. She was sitting on her bed, painting her cute little toes, and listening to some godawful boy band. It had been almost a year since he last saw her and now he could almost see the woman that had fallen into his life so many decades ago. She had grown up.

Before he knocked on her window, she turned as if she sensed his presence and caught his eyes. Her lips parted, surprised, and she blinked at him before slowly giving him an incredulous smile. 

"Spike," she called as he crawled from the window and stood before her.

It felt a bit too much like judgment day. He tried to stand tall, but as the seconds ticked by with her tilted head and questioning gaze, he wondered not for the first time if he had been gone too long. If he had been tried and was left wanting.

She slowly closed the distance between them and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "Oh my god," she whispered against the exposed skin of his collar. She pulled back, snuffling a bit as she shook her head.

"Dawn," he spoke, when she looked up at him with big, wet eyes. He never tired of those eyes, always had a spark of love for him.

"Oh my god," she said again, this time excitement bubbled into her voice. "You're here. You came back." Her hand drifted up to his neck and she smiled. "And no neck tattoo."

She hugged him this time, wrapped her arms around him tight and strong. She was just the right height that he could tuck her under his chin. "I just- I can't believe… I was so scared that I'd never see you again, that you'd find something better and...." A few lone tears dripped from her eyes and trailed down her pale cheek.

"Not possible." He wiped the tears with the pad of his thumb.

He stayed in her embrace, enjoying her warmth and knowing he could get lost here. He was going to enjoy everything she had to offer, as unworthy as he was. She was the one to pull away first, her eyes still looking at him with wonder.

"Now I think it’s close enough to midnight to celebrate someone’s birthday.”

"You remembered?" she whispered, sounding surprised.

He snorted. "'Forget my sweet bit's 18th? Not bloody likely."

He led her over to her bed and they both plopped down. He pulled a ring from his pocket, a small gold crescent moon, inlaid with tiny pearls, connected to a star made of a bitty diamond, and slipped it on her middle finger. It was his mother's ring; the one her father had given to her as a little girl and the ring meant for his intended. And ever since he saw it on Dawn's finger a century ago, he couldn't imagine it anywhere else.

"Happy birthday, petal," and he kissed her hand.

She brought her other hand to her heart and took a deep breath. "Oh my god. Spike. It's beautiful. Thank you," she blushed, eyes flicking between him and her hand. "If-if you're sticking around…

"'You're stuck with me 'til you smarten up or the next apocalypse. Whichever comes first," he interrupted with a grin.

"Oh," she paused, flustered. "That's…I like that. Well, I'm having a dinner party tomorrow, well, today, tonight. I guess it's not much of a party since Willow and Giles are off to magic rehab and Anya isn't speaking to anyone and Tara's… gone, but Xander and Buffy'll be there."

He gave her a look. Best to get it out of the way immediately then. "I'm here for you, bit. Could come along if you want me to, but I'm sure the Slayer would rather have you to herself."

A blush rose high on her cheeks and she gave him a smile that would have stopped his heart if it was beating.

"Buggered it all up before. Gonna do right by you now, 'bit."

He pushed back some hair behind her ear that had escaped its messy pile on top of her head and trailed his hand past her neck, tracing his scar with the pad of his thumb. She jerked back, startled.

"I never meant to-never meant to hurt you. Never meant to fail you." He took a pause. "I got lost along the way," he confessed. Got lost with the Slayer. Got lost coming back. But he found his way back, would always find his way back; all paths led to her. "But not anymore.”

She removed his hand from her neck and placed it between both of hers. He could feel her heartbeat throughout his body and feel the warmth it radiated in his chest. This was home; she was home. Even if he couldn’t have her, this is the best place he could be. The _only_ place he could be. 

"I’ve got a lot to make up for. I know that. And I'm prepared for groveling or good old fashion torture. For me of course. You'd be right good with a flog."

She gave a small chuckle, her eyes finally losing their wetness and apprehension and instead shone with a bit of mischief. "I'll keep that in mind-the groveling. But I don't need a flog for torture. I like to use more inhumane instruments." Reaching behind her, she grabbed her nail polish.

With a slow grin, he took the polish from her and began rolling it in his hands.

"Now tell me what I've missed. And don't leave out the juicy bits."

\----------------------------

January 10, 2003  
Sunnydale, California

She was sitting on the living room floor, her college books strewn around her, and her lip in-between her teeth. The brunette looked to be deep in thought since she didn't acknowledge them enter. She had taken to wearing pencils in her bun, saying something about osmosis, and was twirling her hair idly around them.

"Buffy, Spike!" she greeted, popping her head up from a large tomb and giving him a smile that always stopped him in his tracks. "How was yan-gant-y-tan hunting?"

"Look at this collateral damage!" Buffy groaned, holding up her singed ponytail for Dawn to see. "So not a fan of demons with candlesticks for fingers. Bad for the split-ends."

"So you kicked its ass right? No one touches the Slayer's hair and lives."

"Damn straight," the Slayer returned with a smile.

"Set him a flame with his own hand. Bit of poetic justice, that," Spike smirked and tore off his duster, throwing it on the stairwell.

"In that case, do you know what heroes gets?" Dawn asked, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

"A hero surprise?" Spike responded and waggled his eyebrows.

"Ding, ding, ding!" Dawn jumped up from the ground."Buffy? You in?"

"Count me out. Girls night with Willow and Xander. Trying to be support-o girl now that she's back and rehabbed." She brought her shirt to her nose and wrinkled her nose. "But first, shower. Bonfire isn't a good smell for me."

Dawn made her way to the kitchen. "Extra chocolate for me. And blood!" he called out, enjoying the look of disgust on Buffy's face before she disappeared upstairs.

He made himself comfortable on the sofa and tried to find something good on the telly. He had already had his excitement for tonight. The yan-gant-y-tan was a right bugger to kill with his flame fingers and all. Hard to get close enough to fight him without turning into a pile of ashes. Now all he wanted was to nestle up with his sweet kitten, watch rubbish soaps, and feel the reassurance of her heartbeat against him. He had promised himself he would love from a far, but he didn’t mean that literally.

Dawn returned with two bowls and curled up beside him on the sofa, their bodies flesh.

"Cheers," she smiled, clinking her ice cream bowl to his and quickly knicked the clicker from him. She put on an old martial arts action flick that they had seen before.

He dug into his hero surprise, a sundae covered in chocolate and blood and whatever she could find in the pantry. Wasn't half bad. Loads better than the time she added anchovies. This specialty had those red cherries that were so sweet they were basically candy, little marshmallows that always reminded him of her mum, and some sort of hot sauce.

"Best hero surprise yet, petal. You know how much I love cherries. And they really bring out the sweetness in the blood."

The Slayer made her way down the stairs smelling of strawberries and burnt hair and made a face when she looked at him. "I'm never going to look at maraschinos the same."

“It’s not just cherries. Strawberry syrup has the same effect when it's all mixed in with the chocolate sauce. See?" Dawn sweetly grinned, before opening her mouth to show Buffy the mix on her tongue.

"Ugh. You guys deserve each other in grossness and in maturity. I'll be back before sunrise," and locked the door behind her.

Spike chuckled when he took a look at Dawn's face, a mess of syrup and sugar everywhere. “She might be right, ‘bit; I don’t know if anyone else would have us.”

“Good,” she whispered, tucking her face into his side. His whole body pulsed with her heartbeat. “I only need you.”

\----------------------------

May 15, 2003  
Sunnydale, California

"Hero surprises, here we come!" Dawn sang as she stepped over a broken tombstone and nearly tripped. He tried to suppress a grin. Stumblebumb through and through. ”Now that I'm a part of the hero club, we should make them more….fit for a hero. How about extra chocolate sauce? Ohh, what about that banana fire thing?"

"Banana foster, 'bit?" he chuckled, pulling out a fag and lightning it. "You just want to play with fire." He winked.

"Well, duh. That's the best part. And the rum," she smiled goofily, her face lit up. "Do you think the grocery store will have rum? And what about peach rings? That's what Xander said he wanted as his post-slayage snack. I didn't even ask Angel if he wanted a hero surprise. Should we get two cartons of ice cream, then?"

She was all giddy and hyper, still riding the high of the Slayer letting her join in on a big demon slay. Not that she had done any killing, mind you. He had kept her sandwiched between him and the Whelp the whole time, never leaving her front. Not that she couldn't hold her own; Dawn had proved herself on the handful of times that the Slayer let her fight. But Thur'lox demons were known for their poison claws and he didn't want to take any chances.

"All that wanker did was bring the artillery. Doesn't deserve a hero surprise."

"Does that mean I can keep his pretty sword he brought ? I really like all the emeralds. I feel like they make my eyes pop," Dawn said, twirling her sword in the air. She dropped it and quickly picked it up and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, kitten, as long as you don't-"

By the time he saw the Thur'lox demon coming toward Dawn it was too late to put up a defense. Silent buggers, they were. Using every bit of his vampire speed and reflexes, he pushed her away, putting himself in front of the Thur'lox's claws. They ripped through his flesh, ribcage to navel, and he was brought to his knees by the pain, thankfully bringing the demon to the ground with him.

"Spike!" Dawn screamed, but he couldn't respond. The world was shaking underneath his hands and knees and it was as if battery acid was crawling through his veins.

The Thur’lox was able to pop to his feet, even with Spike jabbing a leg down to trip him. Just that small movement sent tremors of blinding pain through his body. But he couldn’t let it get to Dawn. He had to stop it.

"Stay down,” Dawn yelled and swiftly sliced the sword through the air, decapitating the demon in one swift go right as one claw pierced Spike’s upper thigh. The Thur'ox's head and Dawn fell to his feet. "Oh my god. Are you okay?"

"Tip top," he spat and then tried to make his way to his feet but the world was spinning too much for him to get a good balance on the earth.

Even through his pain, he could see her face was pale and scared. "Spike. There's so much blood."

Looking down, he saw the dark puddle of blood on the grass that was forming from his gash. If it wasn't for the agony at his side, the pond of his blood would have told him that the poison from the Thur'lox's claws was well underway. Their poison was like a blood thinner and an anti-clotting agent all in one, making it quick and easy for their victims to drain out in minutes so the demons could get to their main course-flesh-but without all the mess. This Thur'lox had gotten a good chunk out of him too which would explain why his world was getting a bit dim, blood and consciousness slipping out of him like water from a busted damn.

"There's-there's too much blood. Why isn't it stopping?" She was frantic. Her hands went to his wound, pressing to stop the bleeding, but the pressure made him collapse and his eyes fluttered shut.

"It's the poison. Petal…. You have to run. Take the sword. There might be others." She could get herself home safe. She had to get herself home safe. He couldn't fail her now.

"I'm not leaving you," she hollered.

"I'll-I’ll be fine."

"You'd bleed to death before I could come back to you!"

"Please, love. Get yourself safe and run," he grunted through gritted teeth. It was getting too hard to fight off the darkness and the pain was swallowing him whole.

“I’m not leaving you!!”

“I’ll be fine!” he roared, panic seeping in on him at the thought of her sticking around. If there was one Thur’lox demon left, there could be more.

“But Spike-“ She was hazy, but he could see the tears running down her cheeks, the anger in her eyes. His vision was blurring and her voice turned into static. Gripping her face with as much strength that he could muster, he pressed their foreheads together. “Go, Dawn. Please, for me.”

Pain was crashing over him and he couldn’t fight it anymore. He held her hand until he couldn’t feel her soft form in his.

A forceful slap made his eyes try to focus. But there was too much pain, the world evaporated in front of him and there was nothing but blackness.

"Go grr, damnit!"

Another slice of pain to his face. And then another.

Suddenly, he felt something hot and wet puncture his neck. He let out a howl before he felt his demon automatically take over in the darkness.

"Bite!" he could hear through the pounding in his ears. "Drink." The voice came louder this time, pushing something soft and warm up against his mouth. He could feel the blood pumping strongly against his lips and the demon inside him was running on pure animal instinct and it was howling inside to take, take, take.

"Bite me!" the voice roared again.

His demon growled before his fangs sank into the warm flesh. The blood was rich and heavy in his mouth. Nectar of the gods. Swallow by swallow, his eyes began to focus and he became more aware of the body straddling him- fingers running through his hair, another clawing his back. He was surrounded by this body, by her delicious little noises coming from deep in her throat, by her arousal that was thick and heady in the air. All around him smelled like death, like old blood and damp earth, but her scent was electrifying and familiar. Every part of this female, every cell, called out to him and in his most primal and basic self he knew that she was completely and utterly his.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He looked up and could see her blurry outline. He could smell his blood on her lips and he was harder than steel.

"Mine," he growled against her neck.

He pulled her tighter against him, enjoying her gasp when he grinded against her. He did it again. And again. “Mine."

"Yours," she replied and hurriedly pressed his head to her neck.

Sinking back into her, he continued his sucking until she was all hot, panting and squirming against him. Moaning and wild. Her fingers clawing his back, his neck, his head. She was so close, he could smell it on her, taste it in her blood. All he could think was more. She came undone against him with a shuttering whimper and he wasn't too far behind.

His demon was basking in the glow of marking his mate, of making his claim, when her voice calling his name broke past his demon and to Spike. His eyes opened wide with the realization of what had just transpired.

"Yell later," she said weakly and ran her hands over the ridges of his true face, her eyes heavy-lidded but soft. "Home now."

Quickly shoving his pain, anger, and desire away, he pulled her into his arms and ran. The pounding of the pavement beneath his feet sending bolts of agony through his body. He focused on nothing but the soft beat of her heart, which was weak but steady against him as he brought her home.

\--

His eyes popped open to the sound of things breaking and then a frustrated scream. Jumping to his feet on instinct, he was rewarded with a hot poker of pain in his side. His hand flew to the pain, but he could only feel the fabric that wrapped his side. Bandaged? What had happened? It took nearly thirteen seconds for the Thur'lox attack to come back to. It took only three for him to run up the basement stairs and reach the living room to where he heard multiple human heartbeats.

The Witch and her new little witch friend were huddling over something on the floor by the sofa. The smell of magic-he knew that particular blend of herbs, Finder Spell- was in the air and it made his skin crawl. He moved to find the Slayer and was thankful to be wearing his boots as he heard the crunch of glass underneath them. A broken picture frame of Dawn in her cap and gown. Another one of her as a toddler. Something pinched inside him. He picked them up and ran his fingers over her face to clear the shards of glass and moved to the dinning room where he heard his Sire and the Slayer talking.

The Slayer looked up at him with wide eyes, red rimmed and distraught. That look was all he needed to know.

Turning his attention to Angel, he spoke. "Remember Bucharest, 1900 or so, right before you had your one last bang up with the gypsies?" His Sire nodded. "Remember my human? The one you tried to steal from me?" Spike watched his Sire's eyes go from puzzled to recognizing.

"Willow-" Angel called and quickly left the room.

Before he realized she was moving, the Slayer landed a knock straight to his jaw and he hit the floor. He groaned in agony as she straddled his side, her thigh pushing on his bandaged injury and he could smell his wound reopen.

"What's in Bucharest? What do you know?" she spat and pushed something pointy at his neck. He felt it pierce his skin and a small trickle of blood leak out. "What did you do?"

"Didn't do anything," he howled, clenching his teeth so hard that he could feel the muscle in his jaw twitch.

"Buffy-" Angel sighed as he walked into the room. "We just got him to stop bleeding not even half a day ago."

She rolled her eyes and leaped off him, kicking him in the side as she did so. He doubled over in pain, clutching his side. Bloody bitch, did that last bit on purpose. He felt his wound seep blood as he made his way to a dining room chair and Angel thrusted two mugs of blood into his hands. In record timing, he drained them and ignored the lingering taste (and guilt) of Dawn in his mouth.

“What. Did. You. Do?"

Spike sneered. "Like I said before, Slayer, didn't do anything. Was just minding my own bloody business. Peaches had gone off and Dru too, to find him, and all of a sudden there was a hurt little thing in the bushes, not so Victorian-like with her jeans and jumper.” He took a pause and he felt himself go a bit soft, remembering. “And she knew me, smelled like me…”

“And?”

“So I took her home and patched her all up. Told me her name was Dawn. She didn't tell me much, blabbering on about butterfly effect and all. But o' course I knew some things, like she was the sister of a slayer, how we met in a closet…” He took an un-needed breath and looked away. “I-I don't know why she came to me, but she did."

Seconds ticked by with the slayer’s mouth opened wide. ”What? Time travel? How is that even-Did you hurt her? " she demanded, getting up into his face, her nostrils flaring and eyes blazing.

He threw his hands in the air. ”She had my claim! Of course I didn't hurt her."

Spike heard his sire curse at the word claim and Buffy’s hands grabbed the arms of his chair. "Why should I believe you? You were chip-less then. You-"

“Claimed?” Angel murmured, looking at Spike for the answer. “I didn’t know…” Angel gently put a hand on the Slayer’s arm and shook his head. "His demon wouldn't be able to hurt her with his claim. It's the highest form of any sort of bond in our world." She tensed at his words, but her face was blank. "It's rare… and the only equivalent to the human would be marriage, but... it's much deeper than that."

A fist connected to his jaw, something he probably should have expected. "You vamp-married my sister?!" she yelled.

He spat blood and massaged his jaw. "She bit me first! " he yelled, pulling away the collar of his shirt to expose his own bite. "I told her to come back for me, but she played Bitty Buffy to get me to drink her blood." He absently drifted his fingers over the scar and for the first time since he was turned, he wished he could see his reflection. "You Summers’ women are-"

“Buffy!” Willow called, running from the living room. She was breathless and her pupils were wide and black. Spike didn’t need to know she was messing with heavy magic because he could smell it on her, smell it in the air. “Angel told us that…. We need you and Spike in the circle, hands together. Both of you have her blood and are… close to her.” Her cheeks turned red. “Classic portal spell, just with a time travel twist…everything is ready.”

The witch ushered them all into place and Spike was too nervy to snap about the manhandling. Everything was happening so fast. The circle was outlined with rosemary and black sand and something acidic that he couldn’t name. The witch produced a knife and slashed his and the Slayer’s palms, pressing their hands on the floor so their blood surrounded them in all directions. He smelled Slayer blood in the air and he could feel his demon conflicted and tense.

“It is time,” Willow said and began chanting in a dialect not unlike the Eredun. Fire arose from their handprints and encircled them from the others. The flames were so bright they were blinding, but he felt no heat. Instead, he felt the roar of the fire deep in his body as if it was the overwhelming crashing of waves.

"If anything happens to her," Buffy threatened through the smoke, her words like electricity dancing toward him.

He growled. “I loved her then and I love her now. Nothing will-“

He could not speak anymore. The roaring was so deafening he couldn’t think. Through the blinding flames, it looked as if the Slayer had passed out, her eyes slack and her face calm. He couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, a dark crack appeared in front of him, a welcoming break from the intense light. Slowly the crack began to deepen as if it was shattering glass until he was able to see something inside the crack.

Dawn.

He could make out her figure on the bed and he didn’t need to look further to know that it was him - past him- that she was curled into. She wore a dress shirt, like she so often did, with nothing underneath. Her head was tucked under his own chin, her arm draped over his chest. They were both sound asleep. Spike remembered this day more than his own death. For ten seconds, Spike thought about leaving them there and the life they could have had. The demon roared inside of him. They could have made her their queen; they could have been so happy.

Like a pinched nerve, a tick of guilt flashed hot through his body. He could never do that to her, couldn’t be that selfish, couldn’t not let her have her life.

He loved her too much.

“C’mon, my sweet petal,” he whispered, reaching out to her. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he didn’t imagine the sharp piercing running up his arm as if he was breaking through shards of glass. She was so soft and warm as his fingers grabbed her shoulder. She grumbled, frowned and cuddled further into his younger counterpart.

“It’s time to come home, Dawn.”

She fought him in her sleep, not wanting to leave William’s side. If he wasn’t in agony he would have had a laugh because of course she was being a little brat; she was always a brat when he woke her up. He felt paralyzed from the pain, but he didn’t stop until she was in his arms and flush against him. Before the crack in the air closed, he saw William reach out for the empty space she just left. It felt like he was swallowing the fire that kept roaring around them.

Buggering hell. What had he done?

Her nails clawing at his neck forced him to look away from the tragedy he just caused. “Spike?” she whimpered, fluttering her eyes up to his. “What’s…?”

Before she could finish her question, before he could answer her, the fire blazed closer to them. Her eyes fluttered closed again, her body going slack in his arms, and he held onto her, pushing her body into the floor so he could protect her.

\----------------------------

May 22, 2003  
Sunnydale, California

She still looked pale. A week after the Thur'lox attack and the portal spell and she was weaker than he would have liked. The circles under her eyes were dark and she hadn’t left the bed for anything other than a bath. Red said that blood loss and inter-dimensional travel would have some consequences.

He was just glad she was alive.

“Hey Spike!” she gave a thin smile, but her eyes were warm.

“Hey, kitten,” he murmured, sitting gently on the bed beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“Always better when you’re here.”

She woke up after he pulled her from the past and remembered nothing. She didn’t even remember the Thur'lox attack or their claim. She didn’t even remember the Slayer shrinking her favorite top the day before. It was… It was better that way. He knew it. He knew that deep in his bones. She deserved all the things he could never give her.

She deserved so much more than him.

He pushed away some hair from her forehead and gave her a sad smile. “S’only a week since you defied death, surviving a Thur’lox attack, you brave bird you. Let’s give it a ‘bit longer, yeah?”

She placed her hand on his and he felt her claim on his neck go hot. He was thankful that hers had healed, the 100 or so years producing not even a scar. He had no idea what he would have told her otherwise.

“Still can’t believe you lost your bracelet, bracelet twin,” she sighed and tried to wrap her fingers around his wrist. Her fingers didn’t touch but she left them there and his whole body went warm from her heat. “I always thought it was like…. I don’t know, a sign or an omen.”

The Slayer popped in as she was always popping in now when he was around since she knew how he felt about her sister. She leaned against the doorway.

He forced a chuckle. “A good or bad omen, bit?”

“Mom thought it was something good,” she said and a happy and far away look broke out on her pale face. “She said that it was fate, that it meant we were something special.”

His dead heart nearly burst and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Some days it was hard to look at his wrist and see it bare of the metal that used to be there. He had had it on for over a century, since she gave it to him so many years ago. But he knew he had to let it go, let her go, and he slipped it over to her own bare wrist after he pulled her from the magic flames.

She was better off this way.

“Your mum was a smart one,” he murmured and gently removed her hand from his. “It’s obvious you got all her brains.”

“That’s enough, Spike,” the slayer said, rolling her eyes and pulling him off of Dawn’s bed. “Dawn needs her rest.”

The brunette grumbled and gave her sister some lip, but he allowed himself to be pushed out.

He had to remind himself, better this way.

\----------------------------

November 28, 2003  
Sunnydale, California

He slammed the DeSoto’s door shut with a heavy sigh. He had been putting this off for a week, since his Sire had implied that his presence was necessary, and possibly destined, in Hell-A’s latest threat. It had been too long since he’d ripped something apart with his bare hands and this fight promised that and disenbowelment. A vamp couldn’t just pass that up, but then other vamps didn’t have Dawn.

Before he could even knock on the door, she opened it. She was dressed in a smile and a slip of a dress that made it both harder and easier to leave.

“Spike!” she greeted, happy to see him. “I was just coming to see you.”

“That so, platelet?”

She leaned against the doorjamb and looked at him “Duh. It’s been almost a week and I start feeling antsy when I don’t have my Spike time.”

He gave a small smirk, but pushed his hands in his pockets. It was times like these when he missed his fags, gave him something to focus on, somewhere to put his energy. He tried to focus on if he heard any other heartbeats in the Summer’s house, but he couldn’t get past the pounding of hers in his ears.

“Been a bit tied up with this new apocalypse Peaches is yammering on about.”

The smile on her face quickly vanished and she stiffened her spine. She knew what was coming; his ‘bit was nothing if not quick.

“No!” she whispered.

“Oh, kiiten… Peaches is a complete tosser of a fighter. Needs a real vamp to help him out. Doubt I’ll even be gone long enough to miss.”

Her hand went to his shirt, bunching the fabric in her hands. “No,” she said, panic setting in her voice. “You told me once to fuck the world, so fuck it and stay.”

“Pff. And let Peaches send us all to hell? Not bloody likely, ‘bit. ‘Sides,” he wiped a tear from her eye, “Gotta save it for you.”

She was pure panic and anguish; her face white and her lip quivering. It was killing him. “Spike, no…” she sobbed. “When I think of you leaving, I…I feel sick.”

She was shaking and he pulled her close to him into the dark night. Her nails clawed into his shirt and chest as she continued to blubber against him. Bloody hell.

“Nothing will happen to me, kitten. Promise. Takes a bit more than an apocalypse to take me down. In a few weeks I’ll walk right through this door and-“

Dawn kissed him. It was sudden, a ghost of a kiss against his lips, halting his speech.

He felt the world stop.

“Oh my god,” she cried, pushing away from him, throwing her face into her hands. “What have I done?”

Knocked me out my bloody socks, that’s what she’d done. Buggering hell.

He peeled her hands away and pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear. He could smell the blush rise to her cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to lick it off of her.

“Hey, look at me, petal,” he murmured softly. Tilting her chin up to face him, she kept her eyes to the ground . “Dawn, baby, look at me.” She finally met his eyes for a few seconds with wet tracks down her red cheeks. “There we go.”

She opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. The words died in her throat as she looked at him, distressed. He wanted to soothe her pain, not stress her more or panic her. He hated how she was all tore up for him.

“No worries, kitten. An apocalypse will do that to a girl.”

She whimpered as she pulled herself closer to him and kissed him again.

This time she devoured him.

Her lips were heaven, if heaven was as urgent and wet and desperate bundle that this was. She was nervous, her heart pounding and her hands shaking as they held onto his face and slipped into his hair. In their frenzied battle, they gnashed teeth and lips and he tasted blood and at this moment he wasn’t even aware if it was his or hers. He groaned just the same. He wrapped a hand around her neck, one at her waist, bringing her flesh to him. He needed to feel her heat surrounding him, engulfing him. He wanted everything that she was, everything that she was willing to give.

She was kissing him as if he was a dying man.

She pulled away from him, fevered and panting -he had forgotten she needed to breathe- and there were tears running down her face.

“Oh, Dawn,” he whispered, pulling her into him before she could close in on herself. Her tears turned to sobs and he caught her right before her knees gave out. Wrapping her further into him, he kissed the top of her head.

\----------------------------

January 22, 2004  
Sunnydale, California

It took 8 months in a hell dimension and nearly 9 weeks on Earth, but Spike was back in Sunnydale. He now walked with a slight limp and some doc that one of Angel’s groupies brought in said that it could be permanent but it was too soon to tell. Even with a week of bedrest and a scar that gnarled its way from toes to hip, Spike got the better end of the deal. Peaches had to get his spine mended and still couldn’t seem to sleep when it rained. Served the tosser right for signing them up for a suicide mission, but at least Earth was safe for now.

At least Dawn was safe now.

He had been back in his crypt for two days. The short drive south wore him out more than it should and it crossed his mind more than once that maybe that second week of bedrest wasn’t frivolous. But he hated Hell A, hated the whole Angel crew, and after more than half a year together in a smoggy, miserable hell dimension, Spike couldn’t wait to never see them again. Besides, he made a promise to a girl.

His girl.

Maybe.

Who bloody knew what he was walking into with Dawn. The last time he saw her, she snogged his brains out. If she hadn’t pulled away first, he would have pushed her up against the wall and the world definitely would have been buggered to hell. He had rang her up when he was conscious for more than twenty minutes at a time to let her know he was alive. After she cursed and cried for half an hour, she hung up without a goodbye. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Groaning, he ran fingers through his hair. It was longer, curly, and most assuredly atrocious. Finding bleach wasn’t his first priority in their hell dimension. He’d knick a few boxes when he went out for blood; maybe pop over to the Summers’ and have Dawn touch up his roots after she cursed him again. She’d enjoy the idea of making his scalp melt off, retribution or the like.

Speaking of blood, a pint sounded right good. He ran out of whisky within the first few hours of his return, so he’d have to make do with blood. Not exactly a pity as he was too thin from his latest junket, but he was feeling rather sorry for himself this evening and getting mind-numbing drunk sounded bloody perfect.

Too caught up in his head and the missing prospect of booze, Spike didn’t hear someone come into his crypt until he turned around, mug of blood in his hand, and saw her.

“Dawn,” he greeted, truly surprised. She looked like a drowned rat, soaked from head to sneakers. The storm he felt brewing must have finally opened up. But her eyes, her eyes worried him. They looked more distraught than before he left. The brunette said nothing as she took him in, searching him everywhere but his eyes.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

She said nothing.

“C’mere, petal. Still on the mend, but I can spare a hug or two.”

Placing his mug down, he made to move towards her. She retreated from him. Confused, Spike stopped and really looked at her. Against the inky darkness of his crypt, she looked as luminescent as him. It was then he noticed her hands trembling, her whole body shaking.

“‘Bit,” he softly said, using his vampire speed to grab her hand before she could back away further. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead she finally brought her eyes to his. They were filled with unshed tears.

“I - Oh god,” she cried, yanking her arm from him and running out the door.

What the bloody hell?

He took after her. The rain was merciless as he followed her out into the night and his leg throbbed with his sudden exertion, but he continued on. She had quite a bit head start on him and his docs were sinking in the mud too much to gain any speed. The mud was her downfall too. He saw her feet slide out underneath her, but he caught her wrists before she collapsed and he pulled her to him.

He pushed away wet hair from her forehead and wiped away a few dirt smears on her cheeks, but kept her tight in his arms. She was tense, her whole body rigid and straining. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Get off of me!” Dawn continued to fight in his arms. She was like a wild animal, clawing and scratching at him for release. He didn’t understand what was going on, why she was so angry, why she ran away from him. But he did know that she was right daft if she thought he was ever letting go of her; fighting him only made him hold her tighter.

Her fighting turned to sobbing as her adrenaline crashed. Spike could feel her tears soaking through his wet shirt and he hugged her even tighter. “Please, kitten, tell me what’s wrong.”

She was silent for minutes. The rain pound relentlessly on them, but all he could hear was her gasping and sobbing. He synced his breathing to hers, slowly deepening his breaths to get her to do the same. Finally, he felt her pulse slow and her body let go of most of its fight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was surprisingly crisp even muffled against his shoulder.

“Only arrived 2 nights ago, pigeon. Didn’t think you’d be this brassed off-“

Dawn lifted her head from his chest and looked him in the eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot and wounded. “No, _William_ , why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you wh-“

_William._

Spike felt as if he had been sucker punched -his vision faded and a ringing hit his ears. She called him William. She hadn’t called him that in over 100 years.

“Kitten?” he asked, shock still coursing through him. Did she remember?. Did she somehow remember everything?

“Fuck you, Spike,” she shouted and pushed away from him. “You were never going to tell me, where you? You were never going to give me a choice… “

Spike was at a loss. He had never given himself the indulgence of what-if, but he was certain it wouldn’t have been this. He remembered nearly drowning as a young boy during holiday and this felt similar. Head underwater, nothing to grasp, he was swallowing too much seawater and the shore seemed too far out of reach. He always had Dawn as a buoy, bobbing among the waves, keeping him afloat. But now that she knew, now the she was aware of his transgressions, his failures, would she leave him be and let him drown?

“Petal-“

“No!”

“Dawn… “ he spoke, searching for a way to make her understand, trying to find the words to make it all right. He couldn’t. “It was complicated…”

A scream of raw pain emitted from her throat. “Complicated? We loved each other, Spike. You were my everything, my first everything….you gave me your mom’s ring… you…you were what was missing, that thing that made me feel so empty…my mate!…and if I hadn’t kissed you before you left, it all came back after I…I never would have known!” She gasped, covering her face with her hands. “If something happened to you, if you died, I never….”

He made to catch her again, to grab her and never let go, but she pulled from his grasp and wrapped her arms around herself like armor.

“Kitten… “

“I just don’t understand. ” she whispered. “I thought you...Is it me? Did your past self only love me? Do you not love me anymore”

Anger ripped through him at such a ludicrous thought. He felt nearly sick. “How can you even think that? I bloody well never stopped loving you." He growled himself. "I've been by your side for nearly 15 years and you think I did it, for what? For fun?? To save the bloody world??“

Her body started shaking again and he knew it wasn’t from the rain. “Then why?”

The fight drained out of him a bit. “Was so easy to be selfish and want you a hundred years ago. Was too daft and young to see it then, but I’m sure as hell not now.” He closed his eyes and paused. “Trying to do the right thing by you, petal. You are far more than I have ever deserved. Failed you a thousand times and-”

In hindsight, he should have been more expectant of the right hook that landed squarely in his jaw -the Summers’ women having a way with their fists. A burst of pain and light bloomed from where she connected and he felt something break inside him. Her warmth went straight to his heart and it was getting too difficult to be strong.

“Tried to do the right thing,” he got out, his hand cradling his jaw “…buggered that up too, it seems.”

She huffed and puffed, rubbing the feeling back in her knuckles and from where he stood, bright lights behind his eyes still, no one ever looked as fiercely beautiful as she did in that moment. “I don’t want the right thing!” she cried, getting in his face until she was mere inches apart.. “I want this thing. Us thing. It’s the _only_ right thing….”

Grabbing his throbbing jaw, she pulled his face towards hers and kissed him and he felt like he’d gotten another jab to his face. Their teeth and lips clashed in their frenzy. She tasted like sunshine, like something he never thought he’d see again. Warm and blinding and so bloody good. It overwhelmed him. This was different when she kissed him a few months ago. That was saying goodbye. This time, it felt like coming home.

Rain was still pouring around them, soaking them clean through. He was reminded so much of the night when he found her, when his whole life changed. Except this time, this time he was drowning in love and his girl was fighting for him. He reluctantly pulled back, leaving her gasping for air, and he rested his forehead against hers. He could barely think, could only breathe her in.

She wanted him.

“Spike….” she murmured, kissing him lightly on his lips. His hand rested on the nape of her neck, his thumb strumming the invisible scar of his claim. Her eyes fluttered softly.

“I refuse for this to be some Angel/Buffy sacrifice, better good bullshit…. I….I get to have a choice in this, in us, and I choose you.”

Everything crumbled away from him at those words. No one… no one had ever chosen him. He felt like he was drowning still and he pressed her flush against him to ground him. Dawn wanted him. Remembered everything, lived everything, and still wanted him.

Wanted _them_.

This was so far gone from what he had pictured, what he could have ever expected.

_And she chose him._

"I love you, you big, dumb vampire. I loved you when you used to drink hot chocolate with me and mom and I loved you when I went back in time and I loved you when I came back," she professed. "And I choose you. _Us._ "

“I choose you too,” he said softly. “It’s always been you, you know, I’ve loved you for 100 years, kitten. I've loved you in every way possible there is to love someone.”

She started crying again and wrapped her arms around his torso, warm and shivering against him. “God I’m so pissed at you, but I love you and I’m so very happy you’re alive and here and that you love me too.”

“And I'm yours,” he whispered softly, still in awe.

She pulled away from him enough so that he could see her face. She was outstanding. Her face was red and puffy, her skin paler than ivory, and her eyes were bright and shining, like the north star welcoming him home.

Home.

She was his home.

“Yes, mine.”

\----------------------------

**Epilogue**

February 6, 2004  
Sunnydale, California

He never imagined what heaven would be like, he was a demon after all, but bloody hell, he couldn’t imagine it’d be better than this. She was his. Dawn was his. 36, 865 days since he lost her to time, since he lost hope of ever having her again. And now here she was… with him again. Even if she was still a bit miffed at him and gave him some sassy lip about it all, it was all enough to make his dead heart start beating again. She chose him. She bloody chose them. And he sure wasn't letting go.

“Stop thinking!” she commanded and shifted her weight onto his lap so that she was now straddling him. He groaned as he felt her hot heat shift over him, his body wound so tight with the friction she knew she was causing.

“Stop thinking, she says,” he gently mocked. “When I’m only thinking ‘bout you and all the bad, bad things I’m going to do to you.”

He ran one hand around to her jean covered arse and massaged her backside until she moaned.

He made his voice go low. “What does my baby want?” He grabbed her hand that was against his chest. “You want me to bite you, kitten?” He traced his thumb against the soft flesh of her inner wrist, just below her bracelet. He then traced his mum’s ring on her finger. He felt his demon purring. His. His. His. “For the world to see? Re-mark my claim on your pretty little neck.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing deep her scent. He grinned when she shivered, goosebumps appearing after his cold nose drew designs on her warm skin.

She murmured so softly that even his vampire hearing didn't catch her words. She let out a small gasp when his blunt teeth gently bit her.

“Use your words,” he growled against her skin.

“You know I do,” she moaned. “I want everyone to see that I’m yours. That you’re mine. That we're together.”

Closing her eyes, she arched into him, giving him more access to her beautiful and slender neck. These past few weeks have been pure bliss and frustration. His kitten was finally, finally his and he didn’t want to bugger it up. She had wanted to take it fast and he wanted it slow. He wanted to court her, take his time, and treat her like a queen. And she had wanted him inside of her immediately.

This was their compromise.

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her neck gently. He then brought his lips up to hers and smiled against her as he kissed her. She softened beneath him even more.

“I love you, too,” she happily grinned, tracing his lips with one hand, using the other to scratch down his neck and over his own bite. The one she gave him.

He immediately got hard.

He growled, his face changing, and he caught her eyes quickly before he went and sunk his teeth in her. Her precious blood filled his mouth before she let out a whimper and he lost control at her taste. She mewled again and he pressed into her harder, her legs wrapping tighter around his, grinding and squirming against him. Her heat directly above where he wanted it most. Her arousal was thick and heady and there were delicious little noises coming from deep in her throat.

He growled against her neck. She was so close and he wasn’t far behind.

Then he felt her teeth pierce his skin and he lost it. He felt like he was on fire, that she was his fire. She had just claimed him not even a year ago. But he was nearly on his deathbed then. He wasn’t in control of his body; he was just demon. But now…. now he felt everything. He was somehow melting and alive and he felt as if his heart had started beating and it was going to break through his chest.

And then it all turned black.

\--

He felt like electricity just lit up his spine and he gnashed his teeth against the pain. What the bloody hell? He opened his eyes and even in his blurry vision, he quickly realized that they were somehow no longer sitting on his sofa, no longer in his crypt. He was standing, Dawn’s form beside him, and it was pitch black. “Petal, you alright, love?”

She made a small confirming sound beside him. “I’m-I’m fine. But what was that? And where are w- Ah! I’m naked!” Dawn shouted, her hands coming in front of her body.

He frowned, looked down, and realized that he too was naked. He ran his hands over her body, checking for any sign of a bruise, for blood. Even with his vampire sight, he couldn’t see much except that there was no blood. He pulled her body to his, shielding her from whoever was out there.

“Spike, I think-“

A strange noise started and Dawn stopped speaking.

“Who are you?” Spike shouted. “Where are we?”

Everything was still dark as night but the noises continued and Spike realized it was rhythmic and sounded like chanting. He tightened his fists by his side. He had no weapons on him but his demon and he was prepared to fight whatever the bloody hell was going on. Suddenly, a giant flame erupted 5 meters in front of them and Spike pulled Dawn further behind him. He could feel no heat from the flame, but he sure didn’t trust it or the 6 cloaked figures that were now engulfed by light from the fire.

“What do you want with us?” he shouted again. They made no reaction, but the chanting kept getting louder and louder. “Answer me!”

The chanting got to a point where it was almost deafening. They didn’t appear to be in a room as he could see no walls or ceiling, but the sound was echoing and amplifying as if this was a performance. Was this some sort of witchcraft? Dream sharing?

“Spike…I know who they are,” Dawn whispered, stepping close so they were flush side by side. “They’re the monks…They’re the ones who created me.”

Spike didn’t even get a chance to react. As soon as she spoke, the chanting stopped and the figures all turned toward her.

“The Key,” all the voices said as one.

“You sure, love?” he asked, unwilling to let go of his fight. Perhaps they were dream sharing, but he didn’t bloody trust the figures, the monks. And he sure as hell didn’t trust whatever they were here to do.

Dawn threaded her hand in his and her gentle heartbeat reassured him. “This is what my dreams are sometimes like, but ya know… less naked.”

“We apologize,” a voice said and immediately thick robes appeared on both him and Dawn. They were heavy and dulled the ache he felt in his teeth. “We welcome you.”

“Why are we here? Am I dreaming?” Dawn asked.

“This is not a dream. This is your destiny.”

Spike felt Dawn’s heartbeat quicken and he squeezed her hand.

“Am I dead? Are we dead? What are you-“

“No,” the voices boomed and the flame rose higher. Even with the flame, he still couldn’t see their faces, only dark robes. Spike tucked Dawn closer to him. “This is your destiny. This is your fate. The next step… Everything before was but a test.”

“No more soddin’ riddles!” Spike shouted.

“The prophecy,” they started and Spike growled, annoyed.

“Maybe let’s start from the beginning,” Dawn offered.

One monk stepped away from the rest and bowed his head. “The Key was the original spark that created the universe. The spark that created all life. And in the beginning, there was only one dimension. And all beings lived on this one plane in chaos and pain and constant threats of complete destruction. To create harmony, the Key was then used to create multiple dimensions so that peace could exist.” He paused. “The Key is the utmost powerful, having the ability to create and destroy. As the Order of the Dragon, it is our task to keep the Key from getting into the wrong hands. We succeeded for millennia until the threats grew too strong. When the prophecy of Glorificus came to be, we knew we could keep the Key pure energy no longer. And as is written, we turned the Key corporeal and sent it to Earth in the form of a human female to be protected by The Chosen One.”

Spike could feel Dawn’s slow nod beside him and he remembered that dark night in the Magick Box where they found her fate together. “Buffy,” she whispered. He squeezed her hand again.

“No. Not the Chosen One. The Chosen One,” another monk answered. “It is true you were made from her flesh and bones, but Slayers are meant to sacrifice. They are meant to die. As the Key is immortal, we needed a being who could not only safeguard, but withstand time and space. We needed William.”

“Sodden hell, what?”

“We could not create a being from nothing. It was decided that the Key would be born of the Slayer as they were called to stop the spread of chaos and destruction. Therefore we then needed a soul to inhabit the body of the Key. We searched for thousands of years for a being that was strong enough to protect yet pure enough to not corrupt or abuse the power of the Key. When William was born, we had found The Chosen One. It was then all set into motion and the future was written.”

Everything seemed too much and Spike couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He had more than a hundred bloody questions to ask but he asked the one that was most surreal: “Are you saying that Dawn is my soul?”

“It would be more correct to say she is the missing piece of your soul. We needed a reason for you to be drawn to the Key in human form. To have a strong enough connection.” The monk stopped and raised his hand to the fire. In the flames, Spike could see the scene of his death on the streets of London flickering in the flames. “You never fully lost your soul that night and the part you did lose was then birthed into Dawn.”

There was nothing but quiet for a few beats with only the flames casting shadows. He could barely grasp anything else. That was why the souls never took to his body. It wasn’t because he wasn’t worthy, but because his soul was standing right next to him. Buggering hell. He felt himself shaking.

“So… What I’m understanding,” his kitten started weakly, “is that Spike and I are literal soulmates?”

“Yes,” a monk answered.

“Okay,” she breathed out, sounding shaky. “And, just connecting the dots here, it was literal fate that took me back in time to him?”

One monk nodded. “Correct. We had to establish a sense of protection and connection before he saw you. A secondary plan in case his soul did not recognize you right away.”

“… And Buffy was never meant to be my protector. It was Spike.... all long.”

“Yes. He was created for you and you for him.”

She turned to him and her soft, wide eyes were filled with tears. “Oh my God, Spike! This is- It explains so much.” She gripped his cloak tight. “You’ve always kept me safe. I always felt so safe.” Her eyes were bearing into what felt like his soul and he felt her love pour into him as if she was a tsunami to his draught. He felt the same way. “And I always knew we were meant for each other and now I know that we were literally made for -Wait.” She turned back towards the monks. “In the beginning, you said test. What do you mean ‘all a test’?”

The flames roared higher and scene after scene of their life was flashing over the flames.

“Glorificus was but a test. Before we unleashed the powers of the Key, we needed to be sure of the will and fight of the The Chosen One and to be sure you both were of true soul. The test was passed as The Chosen One protected the Key as fated.”

“Powers?” Dawn asked and he could hear the fear in her voice. He felt that fear radiate in his bones.

“Yes. Powers. The Key is beyond human understanding. The Key is both above the gods and yet not one. Is both destruction and creation. Your power is unsurmountable And without a pure soul, all this power would be the end of the world. And without The Chosen One to anchor your power, it would be all consuming. And now that you two are both one of blood and soul, we do not have much time before your powers are needed.”

Another monk continued. “While we plan for the path of most certainty, sometimes things can…not go according to what is willed. Such as, the Slayer was meant to die. Her resurrection corrupted the timeline and prophecy and for many rotations we thought all hope was lost. You defied all odds. And so now, even though the Key and The Chosen One are now once again one of blood and soul, we have lost much time. The world needs you now- a prophecy estimates an apocalypse-.”

“Enough,” Spike snapped, twirling Dawn to him and set his eyes on hers, searching. There was so much to digest from this bloody monk intervention and he needed to get a look at her to make sure she was okay.

“Kitten,” he whispered, pushing hair back from her face.

“We’re fate,” Dawn gave a small smile, her eyes swirling with love and fear and resolve.

He gave a small smile himself and placed a hand against her heart; some of the tension left his body. Here she was a bloody god and she’s focusing on them. “That we are, kitten. Didn’t need monks to tell me that.”

She reached up and grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers with his. Her face was serious. “I-I know this is so, so crazy and I’m only like half convinced it’s not a fever dream.”

He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her body. His poor, poor kitten. Here she was, having her world disrupted again, the rug pulled from her feet. And he knew, saving the world or not, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there with her. “Kitten, I’m with you until the world ends. You wanna ignore the bastards, I’m in. You wanna fight the good fight some longer, I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Yeah? Even if it means becoming an official white hat?” she said with a grin.

“From the way I look at it, we’ve fought ‘bout, I don’t know, love, 9 apocalypses together so far. What’s a few hundred more?” He grinned. “No matter what, kitten, you have my heart and my soul. There is nowhere else I’d rather be than right next to you.”

Her face broke into a watery smile, her face softer than before. “Me too. You’re…. I transcended time and space for you. And we beat a Hell god with a bad perm and survived multiple cases of extreme blood loss and apparently even survived a corrupted timeline against all odds….I think we’re kinda unstoppable.” She kissed him lightly. “With you, I feel like I can do anything. Like no matter what, everything is going to be okay.”

Spike felt everything in him melt. He felt the same way.

She took a deep breath and turned toward the monks, her fingers still laced with his. “I have lots of questions before anything is decided…And I want to know more about these powers… Like do they involve flying? Oh or being invisible? Do I get to say a cool phrase?”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea/fic has been literally years in the making. Possibly 5-6. I decided to challenge myself and have a male's pov but damn was it hard for me to get into Spike's head. That being said, It feels SO good to get this out into the world.
> 
> I always thought, why did Spike and Dawn have such a connection? Why did he so easily fit into "protector"? Why did he care so much? Well, he had already fallen in love with her 100 years before, of course! I love the angst that time travel brings.


End file.
